Mine To Protect (Elementals Variation 03)
by Lucifer Rosemaunt
Summary: Short ficlet variations on a theme: elementals, earth. Mecha!AU. Pacific Rim!AU Wherein Raoul's only a fighter to protect those he loves. ErikRaoul pre-slash. Could be Gen.


Title: Mine To Protect – Earth (Elementals Variation 03)  
Author: Lucifer Rosemaunt

Summary: Short ficlet variations on a theme: elementals, earth. Mecha!AU. Pacific Rim!AU Wherein Raoul's only a fighter to protect those he loves.  
Fandom: Phantom of the Opera; Pacific Rim  
Pairing(s): delayed Erik/Raoul  
Warning(s): AU, mild violence  
Word Count: 2,369  
Rating: T

o.o.o.o

It is not their first expedition to the North, especially not Raoul's. He remembers tossing seas and endless nights, a constant deprivation of much needed senses to survive in the harsh environment, of blindness and a numbness that takes months back home to be rid of. He has been here before without the extensive barrier of steel and wires to act as a buffer from the biting winds of snowstorms and subzero temperatures. He has been here without the comfort of his brother by his side and in his head. Although he is altogether glad to be travelling in these circumstances now, he cannot also help but think that crossing the ocean in a ship still holds some charm.

Philippe shoots him a look from where he stands to his left and Raoul can feel his fond exasperation and outright derision at the thought. His brother has told him many a time that his service in the Navy was quite enough time spent on boats for the both of them. Raoul is always a little more than proud when he manages to get his older brother out to sea every now and then, most of the time, not in such frigid temperatures. Here, though, in this jaeger that feels more like a part of himself than anything, that feels like _them_ , it takes little convincing to get him to go anywhere, least of all an actual mission.

Anomalous kaiju readings along the northern ice drifts have been a steadily increasing cause for concern in the past month. Patrols from the Alaskan and the Russian Shatterdomes have turned up nothing in that month, which in Philippe's mind is about four weeks too late to have waited to call for them. The kaijus have long since stopped working on a set timetable, but although there are months when their attacks may ebb, they also have a tendency to swell dangerously. So while the adaptability of all jaegers and their pilots is something to be lauded, the _Arctic Marin_ is more suited for the deep ocean than any other in the Pan-Pacific arsenal.

The Chagnys have funded the jaeger program long before the concept of piloting one had been conceived in either brother's mind and even when they found themselves going through the Ranger program – Philippe first only because Raoul's transfer from the Navy had required more paperwork than he had expected – they had not expected to be allowed to pilot the then-prototype jaeger. The _Arctic Marin_ was a jaeger built to draw the fight away from the shorelines, away from the Miracle Mile and the lives consistently placed in danger by the persistent creatures. She could maneuver in the water almost as easily, if not more taxing on her pilots, as on land. Very few jaeger designs have tried to replicate the pumps, ballasts, and oxygen scrubbers or even the automatic pressurization system on the conn-pod integrated in the _Arctic Marin_ 's structure. The danger inherent in attempting to fight creatures that have been streamlined for the deep seas had only been supported when two of the three _Marin_ prototypes fell and their pilots were unable to be recovered. While features have been adjusted and incorporated, no other Mark 7 or subsequent generations have attempted to achieve the same holistic effect, leaving the _Arctic Marin_ one of its kind in the Corps' arsenal.

Along the northern coasts of Greenland, the skies have finally cleared enough to see the abundance of stars that hung above their heads as they ploughed through meters of freshly fallen snow. Raoul finds comfort in the exertion of synchronized steps and armswings almost as much as being buffeted on the waves. However, the physicality and pleasant ache of muscles working to control their jaeger is much more satisfying than manipulating the lines and sails of a ship. There is very little Raoul does not love about being a Ranger. Sure, he is not home often, but he has part of his family always close and those left behind are safe because of their efforts. He is uncertain who thinks of their sisters and their respective families, but it is bittersweet. The ability to make a difference, to make change, to protect the ones they love serve as reminders of why that distance means so very little. Every beat of their heart sounds the rhythm of a shared purpose. Raoul had been unable to continue to do that as he had been, a mere human amongst others with useless weapons and ignorant of the ways to fight giants.

Philippe draws him from their shared thoughts, "There's something about this cold I will never get used to."

"It's nice." Raoul skims the HUD plots and gauges, noting the '-31' degrees centigrade. The conn-pod is pleasantly cool, drivesuits keeping even the body heat from the exertion of piloting to something comfortable. "It's practically summertime weather." He adds, "Here at least. It's..."

"Nice, I know," his brother finishes for him. "If you don't mind spending nearly twenty percent of our power on heating external sensors."

And Raoul does not need to check their heading or the map to know what his brother wants. "We could always take a dip. We're practically done with this quadrant."

They are already redirecting, striding confidently into the shallows when Philippe responds, "You read my mind." It is second nature to take a deep breath, pulled in sync, despite the unnecessary aspect of it as the head of the _Arctic Marin_ submerges. A brief message cycles through the screen, a flash of green, as the AI does a brief internal check once they are completely submerged and moving steadily headlong into deeper Arctic waters.

There is a stillness he knows Philippe loves about the ocean, the sunlight struggling to cut through the depths they often find themselves at. The luminescent coating on their jaeger gives them nothing more than several meters of visibility. Sonar, instead, is their eyes. Philippe reaches up with his right arm soon enough, pulling up the controls to filter in the music of a whale calling in the distance. A few more commands and several forms track across their sonar graph on the HUD.

"Do you hear that?" Philippe asks.

Raoul spares him a look because of course he hears them. "The pod?"

"Yeah," he grins. "They're saying, it's cold. Let's move to warmer waters."

Rolling his eyes, he points out, "They don't mind the cold."

"Warm waters are calling our names, dear brother. It has been…" Philippe shifts suddenly, turning them.

The _Arctic Marin_ shudders, metal screeching louder than the klaxon alarms. The conn-pod is bathed in a red hue that makes the data on the HUD almost too bright. For a long moment, they are weightless, hung suspended before jerking to a teeth rattling halt, knees and ankles jarred as the platform brings them down.

Raoul braces them with his right arm out. The kaiju that has brought the _Arctic Marin_ to her knees still has its tail embedded in their side if the sensors are any indication. Philippe is slumped over, barely holding onto consciousness but still aware enough to hold the drift. Their neural handshake has always been strong, but Raoul can feel the difference now. The _Marin_ 's left arm lays limply at her side and Raoul can feel blood filling their drivesuit. There is an eerie yellow tint to this kaiju from their luminescent coating when he glances at the external cameras.

Raoul is uninjured though shaken. He does not glance over to his brother even though he wants to. Instead, they both struggle to their feet. Philippe somehow manages. There is a wound on his leg that burns, the source of most of the blood, and a stabbing pain in his side that they are both sure is indicative of broken ribs. They are bleeding internally. It is not a question of if, but a question of how long it will take to bleed out. He twists his right wrist and swings his arm a wide arc upward and forward. The contact will not cause damage but in the time it takes to complete the motion and dig his fist into the kaiju's collarbones, the tone has sounded to indicate a complete charge of the plasmacaster and they fire it with a shout that physically hurts to let loose. The feedback cradle vibrates with the force exerted and Raoul holds firm.

The kaiju lurches backward, the water tainted blue, Raoul knows, but it is all inky blackness in the water. He pants and they can hardly take a deep breath in. They stumble, leaning heavily to the right, but the gyroscopes and AI do well to compensate. Raoul's vision splits and blurs for only a moment before he feels warm liquid between their toes.

The creature swims around and Raoul does not bother to turn his head. They can track it without using that much needed energy. There are warnings popping up faster than he can process them. He swipes at the HUD with his left hand, coordination shot as he fumbles with the command panels. He has just found the ballast tanks tabular display and the command to jettison the water so they can surface and possibly take this battle to the nearest shore. They are hardly a meter off the ocean floor when through the flood of bubbles, the kaiju grabs at their left arm to pin them on the ground.

Philippe screams and it hurts both their chests as well as somewhere deep in their abdomen that makes Raoul worry. They try to kick away from it, but it readjusts its grip to pin Raoul's arm. The _Arctic Marin_ 's left arm floats upward uselessly when it is released. There are teeth that clench around her head and jaws that struggle to clamp shut. Raoul can hear the metal groaning under the pressure and he does not know what he can do when he cannot free his arm.

"Philippe!" he yells desperately, mind grabbing and tugging at thoughts and memories that are fuzzy around the edges. He thrashes when he feels his concentration momentarily slipping. His mind and body straining to make the behemoth above them move. A pull on his mind, a near unbearable pressure builds behind his right eye and he suddenly sees himself when he was eight years old and about to leave for boarding school. There are tears in his eyes and Raoul remembers having felt unwanted and abandoned even though he had been the one leaving. All he feels at the moment though is guilt and an intense desire to make it better. He never wants to see his younger brother in such distress.

The kaiju releases the _Arctic Marin_ 's head only to rear back and try again with better momentum. Before it can, the _Marin_ releases the harpoon from her left forearm through its chest, the force of which frees her from its grasp.

"Philippe?" Raoul looks over.

The _Marin_ is floating upwards towards the surface and the AI is already orienting them so they are no longer on their back. That only means that Philippe is slouched forward, suspended only by the drivesuit and the spinal clamp attachment. Despite knowing the contrary, he worries that Philippe is not breathing. LOCCENT Mission Control will have already received their distress signal. Help will be there once they reach the surface. He convinces himself that his brother will make it, repeats it like a mantra.

They both yell out in pain, Philippe's body curling towards his arm, toes clenching through the blood in his boots when the left side of their body is jerked behind them. Raoul panics for a moment, thinking the kaiju has somehow survived a harpoon through its chest, but their legs float past them. The harpoon display is flashing, indicating something is on the line. Carbon steel rope connects the _Marin_ to a dead kaiju that is somehow dense enough to slow and stop their progress to the surface.

Raoul wants to laugh in despair. He does but also focuses on fighting through the pain to reach out once more with his left arm to access the HUD commands. He draws the tabular display closer and hits the release command on the harpoon. The HUD flashes red and Raoul hits the command again.

"No." He presses it again. "No. You can't."

He reaches with his right arm to tug at the line, and even though there is some give, they stop shortly after. He strains against the cord, hits the release command again and again before flicking his right wrist. The plasmacaster charges but his vision blurs.

"No. Please."

Darkness creeps in from the edge of their vision. The bright colors of the HUD greys momentarily, and it feels as though there is a heavy weight on his chest. The pressure is suffocating. He frantically scans the HUD for a warning he may have missed. Maybe the _Marin_ has not been able to seal away the compartments in her midsection. The pressure from the ocean is going to crumple them like a tin can, squeezing tighter and tighter.

A familiar tone brings him out of that vice. The plasmacaster is ready to be fired, but the darkness creeps ever closer, bringing with it a chill that makes them shiver.

He struggles to bring his arm around not knowing how he even manages, but Philippe's breathing somehow sounds loud in the conn-pod, sounds _wet_ and he manages.

His left arm is growing numb, fingers reflexively clenching through the pain that lingers.

His vision blurs enough that his arm swings well past the line. For Philippe, he thinks and tries to breathe through the daze.

The pressure on his chest weighs heavier, the darkness beckoning.

Raoul's muscles will not listen through the cold. They are _dying_ and his muscles will not cooperate.

But it is so tempting to just give in.

He does not know what he is aiming at anymore, his concentration shot. He only hopes he is close enough.

 _Let go_ , the darkness whispers.

Raoul lets out a broken laugh because that is exactly what he wants to do. Let go. He closes his eyes and fires.

o.o.o.o

End chapter 01

A/N: It shouldn't have ended up a two-shot, but it did because of backstory and the transition would have been seriously awkward otherwise. I couldn't not make it Erik/Raoul as well, so there has to be another chapter. Also, I realize after writing this it could very well have been used this for 'water' (but naval!Raoul/pirate!Erik needed to happen, and I can't be too mad at that). And yeah, Raoul was in the navy in this universe as well. He's in the navy for most universes I have of him in my brain. Regardless, for some reason, PacRim was firmly in the earth category. On one level, they're fighting for Earth and on another level, the shatterdomes are land-based and that's where most of the action happens (although you can't tell it from this chapter). Also, of course the _Arctic Marin_ has a harpoon. It's an ocean hunter. :D

Fic Review: And Raoul is so the baby of the family and was doted upon, and he trusts Philippe so implicitly, a small part of him still lost to hero worship for his older brother, that in such a time of desperate trouble, he calls to him, expects him to be able to fix what's happening. And Philippe, he cannot let his brother down no matter how hard it is to stay conscious. There is so much stimuli that his body just wants to shut down, but he embraces that pain, uses it. He will stay on his feet, punch-drunk and bleeding to death. His limbs feel as though they are made of lead, his head is swimming but he's learned how to find and project the surface clarity to fool the neural handshake into holding. And it's easy at least in that regard because family, _Raoul_ , has always been that bright, clarity in his mind. He made a promise to himself a long time ago, after their parents were gone, after their sisters had found happiness in creating their own families, after the last kaiju slaughter that had driven both of them to join the Rangers, that he would never let Raoul down while he still lives. So. He doesn't.


End file.
